


Saudade: A Beloved Dream

by jbmedallions



Category: Merlin - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, morwaine, saudade - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:56:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jbmedallions/pseuds/jbmedallions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This dream of ours will end."</p><p> SAUDADE -"A somewhat melancholic feeling of incompleteness. It is related to thinking back on situations of privation due to the absence of someone or something, to move away from a place or thing, or to the absence of a set of particular and desirable experiences and pleasures once lived."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hoc Somnium Incipiam

 

_Longing_

_Come to me in my dreams, and then_

_By day I shall be well again!_

_For so the night will more than pay_

_The hopeless longing of the day._

 

When we two parted

_In secret we met—_

_In silence I grieve_

_That thy heart could forget,_

_Thy spirit deceive._

_If I should meet thee_

_After long years,_

_How should I greet thee?—_

_With silence and tears._

 

 

 

 

_Dream within a dream._

 

It was a rare occurrence for Gwaine to be worried over - to him - such trivial matters and yet he was now wide awake in bed, thinking about the responsibilities and codes that followed a knight. His eyes were glued to the unshuttered window that revealed a brilliantly dark blue sky where the bright white moon hung like a giant pearl. Such a simplistic view. White on blue. He wished his worries were simplified so the sleepless nights would end. He sighed and put his arm across his eyes, blocking his vision of the sky. Arthur had already mentioned to him that he looked exhausted. It was a little humiliating considering. He didn't want to seem weak in front of the others and this bloody worrying was very much getting in the way. He needed time to himself. All the events that had happened came one after another with barely a pause in-between and he had to admit, he was more than ready to get away from it. Not permanently, of course. He respected Arthur and the rest of his companions and were friends with them. Doing anything that would endanger that camaraderie was out of the question.

But he needed to clear his head. And to do that, he needed to remove himself from this place for a few weeks or so. Living here was fine and all but it did nothing to ease his troubles. Rather, it seemed to exacerbate the problem. Right. Tomorrow morning, he'd go to Arthur and tell him he'd be out hunting for a few weeks. It was better to say hunting than needing space. It seemed too womanly to speak of needing space even if that were the case. And Arthur wasn't exactly the type to overlook something like this. In fact, he thought it likely that the man would tease him mercilessly if he should find out the true reason for it. God forbid. Trying to put that thought out of his head, he turned over and closed his eyes, finally feeling sleep close over him.

\--------------------------------------------------

 

“Gwaine! Wake up, already! We're training in the courtyard today. Gwaine!”

The calls were followed with door rattling knocks from a heavy fist. Gwaine groaned but got up, knowing that even if he ignored it, the bastard would keep at it until he answered. The bed creaked slightly as he swung his legs over the side and stood up, twisting his torso left and right to get the kinks out. And the knocks continued yet. Rolling his eyes, he walked over to the door and swung it open, catching Percival halfway through his next round of door thumping. Gwaine gave him an arched look. “What? The straw dolls weren't enough for you that you had to pound my door to the floor?”

“I know there's an insult in there somewhere.”

“You're learning.”

Percival just frowned and shifted on his feet. Gwaine chuckled and waved him in. He closed the door after him and walked over to the table. He poured a cup of water as Percival leaned against the wall.

“So. Arthur's making all the knights train again?” he asked, taking a long drink. Finishing, he set the cup down and went over to water basin, a clean washcloth beside it. He ducked his head as he flicked the water up into his face, rubbing it clean. He listened to Percival outline the plan for the day as he grabbed the washcloth and dried his face. “Hm. And you had the grand, noble duty of awakening me, huh?”

“It was a choice between a pretty servant girl or handsome old me. Based on your past tastes, I had the better chance.”

“Your knocking had the better chance. Try not to break down the door next time. I doubt Arthur's willing to replace that without good reason.”

“Yes, yes. Now hurry up and get down there. If you were listening earlier, we're going to have a tiring day ahead of us.”

“Alright, already. Now, out. A pure maiden like me need my privacy.”

Percival snorted. “I'll attest to the womanly side of you; your hair has unnaturally pretty sheen to it. But your so-called purity is laughable.”

“Jealous, Percival? Perhaps if you grew out your hair, you'll have something to be proud of.”

“You wish, Gwaine, you wish. I'm heading down now before I have to hear you write poems about your hair and purity.” So saying, he pushed off the wall he had been leaning against and moved over to the door.

“Ah, wait, Percival,” Gwaine called out before the man could leave. His face was innocent as a lamb but his eyes were laughing. “Tell Arthur, next time he sends a messenger, he should pick Leon for it. At least the man looks half decent in a dress, imaginary or otherwise.”

Percival made a derogatory sign at him before slamming the door shut. It made the cupboards and cups on the table rattle. Gwaine, however, couldn't contain himself and burst out laughing. Ah, Percival. Too easy, my friend. Much too easy. Chuckling to himself, he got ready for the day.

\--------------------------------------------------

 

“Arthur, I need to speak with you about something.”

“Give me a moment.”

Gwaine moved over to the walls and waited for Arthur to finish up. While he waited, he thought about how to phrase his request without seeming like he was running away. That was definitely not the impression he wanted to give but it might be a little difficult to hide. Arthur was usually a little single-mindedly sometimes but there were instances when he could be very intuitive. Gwaine just hoped this wasn't one of those times. He straightened as Arthur came over.

“Gwaine. What did you need to speak about?”

“I need some time to myself,” Gwaine said bluntly. Forget tact and subtlety. He was never good at those things and now wasn't the time to be doing it. Arthur should respect that. The man was as blunt as they come when he wanted to be. And admitting he needed some time off wasn't a concession of weakness. “I can't concentrate at all. And I know it's showing during training.”

“Well, you're right about that. Your swordplay today was atrocious.”

Gwaine felt the sudden urge to laugh. Thank you, Arthur. You certainly know how to brush aside a folly with such indifference. “Why didn't you say anything then?”

Arthur leaned against the wall beside him and watched the others spar. “You seemed to have something on your mind for the past few days and I considered asking you about it. But I decided not to since I had a feeling you'd come to me about it soon enough.” He smiled. “And you did.”

“And so I did, yes.” Gwaine was relieved. Arthur hadn't gotten angry so maybe he wouldn't outright reject the proposal he was about to give him. “I was wondering if you could give me a month off.”

“Hm.”

They were both silent as they immersed themselves in their thoughts. The sound of swords clashing and shields thumping echoed across the field and he watched as a taller knight was taken down by a much shorter one. Whew. He was glad that hadn't happened to him. Who knew how much ridicule he'd have to put up with.

“I can't let you leave Camelot for a whole month, you understand,” Arthur finally said. “But I'll let you go on the promise that you'll check back to the castle every few days or so. To make sure nothing has happened.”

Gwaine mulled it over in his head. It mostly defeated the purpose of why he needed the break in the first place. But perhaps this was a kind concession. Arthur could have just said no instead of negotiating and Gwaine respected that. Besides, checking in once every few days wouldn't be much of a problem. He had no plans to go further than the woods surrounding Camelot and the journey between the castle and his camp site shouldn't take more than an hour at the most.

“Gwaine?”

“Yes, I'll check back when I have to.” He hunched his shoulders slightly. “You really don't have a problem with me gone?”

“It's not so much that I don't have a problem with it. I just think you're better off resolving your own issues.”

“Heh, well thanks for that. I plan on leaving early tomorrow morning unless there's something you need me to take care of?”

“Nothing that the others can't handle.” Arthur pushed off the wall and clapped him on the shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Gwaine. We need all the fools we can get.” He grinned and walked off, shouting at a couple of knights wrestling on the ground.

 

****

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/kwinnie/pic/00001pp6/)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longing by Matthew Arnold  
> iiWhen We Two Parted by Lord Byron  
> iiiA Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allen Poe


	2. Fata Morgana

  
_O sweet illusions of song_

_That tempt me everywhere._

 

Gwaine rubbed his forehead as a persistent headache plagued him. Arthur had warned him that Morgana was somewhere in the forest so he needed to be careful when he was hunting. Asking him for time off had been a strangely tense ordeal but at least he was given permission to leave.  
  


He walked on and on, passing through several potential camp sites because none of them appealed to him. That and every time it seemed like he had found a good one and was about to settle down, he had the sudden urge to continue moving. It was baffling but he continued on to see where it would lead him. There was a slight roar echoing towards him and as he kept walking in the same direction, the louder it got until he stepped out from the trees and into a tiny clearing beside a small pool of water. His head tilted up and he found the reason for the roaring. A waterfall. Small but large enough to make quite a noise. This wasn't exactly a good place to camp since he couldn't hear anything besides the roar of the water which made it impossible to detect any potential enemies. Maybe he could find another clearing close enough that he could use the water. He turned around but another sound caught his attention. This splash was a little different from the waterfall so he turned back around and stepped closer to the edge of the pool.  
  


He spied trailing black hair that seemed to wound itself around the rippling water and a blurry pale body beneath. Now, he wasn't one for overreacting but since said body was _not_ moving, he was justified to freak out and jump into the water. Perhaps the better idea would have been to take off his heavy leather jacket. He grabbed the woman around what he hoped was her waist and pulled her close to him, pushing upwards to the surface. He sucked in air as soon as his head broke the water and immediately hoisted both of them out of the water, trying to hold onto the thrashing woman. His head snapped back as a hand cracked across his cheek. Damn, that stung. He rubbed his cheek and watched as the dark-haired woman scrambled to her feet, naked, might he add, and ran to a small crop of rocks, pulling a large cloak from behind it. He had a brief yet intense glimpse of her wet, naked, perfectly formed, did he mention naked? body before she wrapped the cloak around herself before she spun around and pinned him with a death glare. It was an interesting combination.  
  


“Just what did you think you were doing?” she demanded roughly, a lilt to her voice.  
  


“What was I doing?” Gwaine lumbered to his feet, the water in his clothes weighing him down. He grabbed a fistful of his shirt and wrung out the water before looking up at the irate woman. “I was rescuing you from drowning. You're welcome, by the way.”  
  


“I wasn't drowning, you fool. I was bathing. If you had actually stopped and considered the situation before you decided to play hero, I wouldn't need to explain this to you.”  
  


“Well how was I supposed to know? All I saw was a body underwater and not moving. And before that, you bathe submerged?”  
  


“How I bathe is none of your business and you have yet to apologise to me.”  
  


Gwaine opened his mouth to retort then stopped. He looked more closely at her and realised the cloak was soaked and she was shivering. Shame filled him. To make a lady stand there wet and naked under a cloak while he argued with her was the most shameful thing to do. He dropped his eyes, trying to give her a modicum of privacy which he should have done in the first place. “Alright, look. Perhaps I overreacted and I'm sorry. Please forgive my foolish actions.”  
  


There was a brief silence and he glanced up. There was a frown on her face and her pale green eyes stared at him with suspicion before she nodded slowly. “Very well. Apology accepted but I'm still angry.”  
  


He nodded. Of course. “Thank you nonetheless.”  
  


“Who are you, anyway?”  
  


“I am...” he trailed off as he spied a small leaf caught in her hair beside her ear. There wasn't much of a distance between them so in the next moment, Gwaine was standing before her, towering over her. He reached but she shied away, glaring at him.  
  


“What do you think you are doing?” Her eyes, pale and clear, demanded answers from him but the longer he stared into them, the more he saw. Behind the righteous anger, he could see a layer of uncertainty that seemed at odds with her bold words and face. Even more surprising was the echo of loneliness he glimpsed before it disappeared.  
  


“A leaf,” he said simply before reaching out again and this time, managing to snag it out of her locks. His smile was gentle as he touched her cheek briefly with the leaf. “I am Sir Gwaine of Camelot. It is a pleasure to meet you. May I know your name also?”  
  


Since he was looking into her eyes, he could see the moment the emotions in them vanish and in its place was a cold fury and blazing hatred. He was shocked. “What-”  
  


“Camelot, is it? Well then, Sir Gwaine, perhaps you can send my regards to Arthur,” she said, coldly. “From his sister, Morgana.”  
  


He felt a pressure on his chest and realised she had placed her hand there. There was a slight pause before he was blown backwards into the pool. He choked on the water entering his lungs and he kicked up to the surface, gasping and coughing. His clothes weighed him down heavily as he dragged himself back out of the pool and looked around for the woman. For Morgana. He snatched up his sword and drew it out, just in case she decided to return. Not that it was going to help much since she had barely touched him before he found himself in the water. He was alert for her presence but it was made difficult by the roaring water and after a while, he decided she wasn't about to suddenly pop out of nowhere and murder him. Sheathing the sword, he picked up his fallen pack and moved off from the pool clearing. It wouldn't do to stay there when he couldn't hear anything coming at him. His steps were silent as he quickly made his way back towards the castle. If that was truly Morgana then he needed to inform Arthur immediately.  
  


He walked on for several minutes then stopped. But wasn't Arthur already aware of Morgana's residence in the forest? He frowned and ran a hand through his damp hair. There was no point in informing Arthur because it'd be like telling someone the horse has already left the stables after said person witnessed it. Shaking his head, he continued in a different direction. At least he got an eyeful of something forbidden, he thought as he grinned widely.  
  
  


\--------------------------------------------------

  
  


Morgana kept a tight hold on her cloak because she had forgotten to grab her clothes when she had rushed away from the pool. Damn that man. It was humiliating to be walking around the forest with no clothes on beneath her cloak. It made her feel too vulnerable. Not that anybody would venture into this area. It was unspoken but this was her territory and she had demonstrated her irritation at her land being trespassed on that no one disturbed her here. Except for that damn fool. Her mood plummeted once more. It was at least an hour before dawn. What was he thinking wandering around the forest at this time? Moreover, what was he thinking wandering around _her_ forest?  
  


Her feet led her to the entrance of her home and she quickly stepped inside, closing the door with a small bang, evidence of her temper. She discarded the now damp and cold cloak and went over to her dresser, pulling out a dark grey shift and putting it on. After tugging the material into place she walked over to a barrel of water and scooped out water into the basin beside it. Taking a fresh white cloth, she sat down at the table and began cleaning her dirty feet.  
  


The only thought that swirled around her mind was that the next time she saw _Sir_ Gwaine, she'd kill him. She did _not_ appreciate having to walk through the forest with no clothes on nor having her bath interrupted. If he was going to wander around the forest without a care in the world, she'd make sure he'd regret it.

****

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iFata Morgana by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


	3. Amicitia: part one

_Comes large-eyed Friendship: with a restful gaze._

 

Morgana picked her way over the roots of a large tree, her hand grasping the tree trunk firmly to keep her balance. She bent down to pluck one of the flowers growing at its base and put it in the basket hanging on her arm. Today she was out replenishing a few of her supplies that had run out. It was mainly for medicinal herbs and healing salves but there was the odd poison or two. A shaft of sunlight cut across her face and she blinked, the glare making her eyes water slightly. It was early afternoon but the leafy canopy of the forest kept most of the sunlight from penetrating the forest floor, giving the area a muted soft glow. She stood, her eyes tracing the lines of the tree with a slight smile on her face. Normally, she'd be out and then back home but today, she felt like taking her time to enjoy the scenery she saw often but never immersed herself in. She spied a large bush that had one of her needed herbs growing in abundance at the base and she hurried over to add them to her growing collection.  


As she plucked the herb, roots and all, from the ground, a faint buzzing sound broke the quiet forest. It sounded like it was nearby and she stood up, tilting her head slightly to get a better idea of where it was. There was a short silence then it started again. It was coming from the giant tree several feet away from where she was standing so she hoisted the basket a little higher on one arm while she slid her hand down to a fold in her skirt where a small but sharp dagger was hidden. It paid to be cautious and she wasn't taking any chances. Anyone she met would probably be allied with Camelot this close to the city, she though with a bitter smile.  


The faint buzzing became louder and louder as she walked closer. She stood at the base of the tree, just behind the source of the sound but after listening to it for a few moments, she had a sneaking suspicion of what the sound was. Putting the basket down beside a large tree root, she pulled out the hidden dagger but kept it by her thigh. No point in showing anyone she had a weapon until they let their guard down, whoever it was on the other side. She stepped lightly around the tree, making sure to keep her feet away from the dead leaves so as to not alert the person sleeping. A booted foot came into view and as she continued to walk around, the rest of the body was revealed. Her eyes travelled from the feet, up the thighs and leather clad chest before resting on the face.  


She had the sudden urge to stab it.  


Her explosive sigh was silent but her glare was like ice. Of all the people to find sleeping here, it had to be _him_. Was she this unfortunate?  


 _Sir_ Gwaine was slumped against the tree, legs splayed and snoring his head off. Very dignified. His pack was a few feet away from him but his sword was lying unsheathed between his legs, the point angled from his body and into the dirt. Both hands were firmly grasping the sword handle  


She tapped the dagger lightly against her thigh and narrowed her eyes. Perhaps now would be a good opportunity to take out one of Arthur's men. One man in a city of many but it counted. Carefully, she stepped closer and leaned down, the dagger rising to rest its tip at the base of his throat. A sharp whinny of a horse made her start and the tip pressed into his skin, causing a drop of blood to bead and slide down his neck. He stirred, his brows pulling into a frown and he shifted, his right knee hitting the back of her leg as he drew it back. She held her breath as he murmured something indistinguishable then settled, his snores beginning again. Really? That sound from the horse would have woken up any normal sleeping person and here he was, lost in his dreams like a contented child. She rolled her eyes. If this was an example of Arthur's precious Knights of Camelot then it was a wonder they've managed to hold off several enemies thus far. She straightened and studied him critically for a moment. Confident that he was sleeping like the dead, something she wished he would do, she tapped the side of his head with a delicate finger. No reaction. Though on her end, she was rather surprised at the softness of his hair. Did all the knights pay that much attention to their hair or was he a special case?  


Dismissing that errant thought, she tried something else and snapped her fingers, directly beside his ear. Again, no reaction, save for a chuffing sigh which made her think of a dog. Or a horse. Speaking of which...she glanced over at the big beast standing with a mouthful of grass and realised it was staring at her in interest. For some reason the expression in it's eyes seemed familiar. Her cheeks went pink as she realised why. Gwaine had looked at her with the same interest when he had 'rescued' her from the pool a few weeks ago. Her anger rushed back as the humiliation of being seen naked by that perverted shameless fool consumed her. She took several calming breaths before her temper got ahold of her and she made a pin cushion out of his face. Not that she had any other weapons besides her dagger but she was versatile and there were a lot of sharp twigs littered around the forest floor.  


She crouched down again, the blade placed once more below his jaw. Instead of taking the final step and slicing him a new mouth, she poked his cheek with her other hand. Hard. With a sharp nail.  


No reaction.  


So she did it again.  


Still nothing.  


The man sleeps like the dead, she thought. It was a little irritating since she couldn't toy with him while he was asleep. There wasn't much point in playing this game if the other participant was practically comatose. She withdrew her hand and made to get up but her wrist was seized in a gentle yet firm grip. While it was a little embarrassing to admit but the sudden action had startled her so much that she dropped her dagger.  


Lesson number one: never allow yourself to become defenceless. Either through your own fault or someone else's.  


That rule was certainly broken.  


A sharp tug and a gasp later, she was on her back with sharp rocks and twigs digging into her back and her wrists locked in the same firm grip while Gwaine towered over her, his weight pinning her down more effectively than any spell Merlin could come up with. She struggled, of course. Moved this way. Moved that way. Attempted to bite him. All to no avail.  


The man was like a stone mountain in human form.  


That would explain his rocks for brains, she thought sourly as she finally went limp. There was no point in struggling any more and she'd rather save the energy for when she needed it most. Like killing him later.  


“Get off me, you great brute,” she demanded angrily.  


\--------------------------------------------------  


Gwaine had to admit that trapping a very angry and very powerful witch beneath his body wasn't exactly the best of ideas. Then again, getting jabbed repeatedly in the face wasn't a good alternative either. He didn't know what she had been up to but it had been amusing to peek at her out of the corner of his eyes when he realised it was her and not an enemy. That was debatable though. Her eyes were practically spitting fire, or ice, at him right now and he wondered if maybe it wasn't too late for a simple apology.  


Perhaps not, he thought as she demanded he get off her. Ah, well. Might as well play this through to the end.  


“I'll get off as long as you swear not to castrate me with that handy dagger of yours.” His face was close to hers but not close enough that he would be able to dodge any snapping teeth. And what lovely teeth they were too.  


“I'll do more than castrate you, you overgrown idiot.”  


“Now, now. Who's the one of her back like a turtle?”  


The furious shriek that erupted from her throat almost deafened him and he _almost_ regretted that jibe. Almost.  


She had also begun to struggle again and it was certainly an interesting sensation. It was one thing to see her perfect, slim body bared for all to see and quite another to have it twisting beneath him. Cold as ice, he was not. And it seemed to occur to her that her wriggling about was going to do anything either as she stopped yet again. This time there was a slight flush in her cheeks that he had a feeling had nothing to do with exertion and everything to do with his 'interest'.  


His mouth twitched and just to annoy her further, pressed his chest tight against hers, effectively bringing his face to rest cheek to cheek with her face.  


He could feel her tense but the scent from her hair distracted him. Such a gentle fragrance drifting from wild looking hair. His mouth was close to her ear as he spoke in a gentle murmur. “Do you know what you remind me of?”  


“No,” she replied, her voice as soft as his. “And frankly, I don't care.”  


He chuckled and pushed up enough so that he could look into her eyes. “You look like a wood nymph from stories my mother would tell me. Care to give this traveller a kiss?”  


One minute he was looking into her furious eyes, the next, he was beside her, clutching his nose. She had head-butted him. _Head-butted him._ She shoved at his shoulder and kicked at him because their legs were still tangled together but he refused to budge, tightening his legs around hers. He snapped his arm out and anchored it over her chest as she made to rise. They wrestled on the ground for several minutes as each tried to get the upper hand until a well-placed knee to the groin found Gwaine being straddled by the most angriest female he'd ever come across. She had those cursed knees digging into his side as well as trapping his arms while her hands were wrapped around his neck. Not choking. Yet.  


She wasn't heavy but having anything on your chest made breathing a problem so it was a struggle for Gwaine to speak. The potential tourniquet around his throat probably didn't help either.  


“I take it you're the breeches of the relationship,” he wheezed, not bothering to struggle. “Have to say, it's rather a refreshing position.”  


“You are insufferable,” she snarled, pressing down. “Are you on a quest to get yourself killed? Because if you are, I am more than happy to oblige.”  


“Now, now. Don't you think it's a little overboard to kill me because of a little teasing?”  


“A little? Teasing?” Her disbelieving voice was almost comical. She leaned down so that her face was only inches from his and their breaths mingled. “You _assaulted_ me --”  


“ _Rescued_ you.”  


“-- and ogled me while I was naked.”  


“Could you blame me?” He winced as she pinched his skin slightly for that comment and continued her tirade.  


“And to top it all off, you pinned me down and held me against my will. At what point in that entire debacle do you think it was a _a little teasing_?”  


“Well, when you put it that way, I may have gone a little too far. In my defence though, you were naked to begin with which made it a little difficult for me to _not_ look.” He wiggled his brows and smiled charmingly. “But if it makes you feel better, you have a _great_ physique.”  


The thunderous expression on Morgana's face got darker at his words and she began another tirade against him which he tuned out, preferring to watch her. With her cheeks flushed and her eyes glinting with high emotion – the gold that kept flashing in them didn't seem good though – made for a very passionate picture. So pretty.  


“...must have been dropped on your head as a child...”  


Or not. For someone with such a regal air around her, she certainly knew how to employ mud yard insults when she wanted to. As she criticised his intelligence, birth and bearing, he lay there wondering how long she was going to keep at it. The woman had to breathe at some point, right?  


“...probably a drunkard too...”  


Okay. That did it. He may enjoy his mead and ale a bit more than he should but he was _not_ a drunkard. A little tipsy at times but not drunk. Her face was close to his and he took the opportunity to go on the attack.  


He kissed her.  


The surprise was evident in her eyes since neither of them had closed their eyes and her hands around his neck had loosened enough for him to push his head up higher and kiss her harder. For a brief, so brief moment, she kissed him back. Her lips were soft and firm and their was a surprising innocence in the kiss that he hadn't expected. It was...nice. His hands were still pinned beneath so he couldn't hold her and it disappointed him more than it should. It seemed like she could sense the disappointment because she abruptly ended the kiss. They stared at each other in silence, confusion and bewilderment in her eyes.  


“Morgana,” he began but she scrambled off him, moving several feet away. He sat up and watched her brush the dirt off her dress, keeping her eyes averted. This bashfulness was so incongruous to what he expected of her that it kept him off-balance and silent.  


“Don't...don't come near me again, knight,” she said quietly, picking up her dropped basket. She fiddled around with it then looked up, locking eyes with him. “I had enough of that egotistical male sense of entitlement with Uther and Arthur. I won't tolerate it again. Especially not from a stranger and an enemy.”  


“We don't have to be strangers,” he replied, getting up and patting the dirt away. “Or enemies.”  


“You are allied with Camelot, more specifically Uther --”  


“Arthur. I am allied with Arthur. Never Uther.”  


A brief pause. “Nevertheless, we are still enemies. I will let you pass this one time but if you and I should cross paths again, I _will_ kill you.”  


She turned around and walked off.  


“Why didn't you kill me the other time?” he called after. “I told you that I was a knight of Camelot and all you did was throw me into the water.”  


Her steps faltered. “It was a mistake. One I don't plan on repeating.”  


He watched her walk away until she disappeared down a a small ravine. It was best to heed her words, he knew but there was a loneliness that seemed to surround her underneath all that haughtiness. It made him want to ease that loneliness. She may have chosen to turn against Camelot but he knew that being lonely wasn't something everyone could live with.  


His mind shied away from the thought that he might be betraying Arthur by befriending Morgana. It wasn't true betrayal until he worked against Camelot. It was a flawed logic but it was enough for him.  


\--------------------------------------------------  


Morgana threw the basket onto her worktable, the herbs and flowers she had collected falling out and scattering across the scratched wooden surface. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might leap from her body. She sat down on a stool with a thump and stared into the glowing embers of her fire. Her mind went over what had happened but it kept fixating on the kiss –  


No. Definitely not. It didn't happen and she was _not_ going to remember it. It reminded her way too much of her time in Camelot, completely innocent of her powers and the true evil that was Uther. Sighing, she rubbed her head and got ready for bed. This day was far too taxing and she wanted it over already.  
  


 

 

_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendship After Love by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

**Author's Note:**

> iLonging by Matthew Arnold
> 
> iiWhen We Two Parted by Lord Byron
> 
> iiiA Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allen Poe


End file.
